


Don't Be a Fool

by Krapfire



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen, Pack Street Fanverse, Slice of Life, shifty fox
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-01-27 05:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krapfire/pseuds/Krapfire
Summary: Don and Dewey. Two canines, business partners. They meet a shifty fox, a vixen named Charlie.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Digits

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pack Street](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141837) by [TGWeaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGWeaver/pseuds/TGWeaver). 
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dewey makes a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don and Dewey don't appear often in TGWeaver's work. This story explores possible interactions they may have with some of the other characters. Mainly Charlie.

In the Pack Street Public Library, a goat processes a few books on financial law. “What do you think I should wear?” she asks a coyote in a business suit as she hands him the books across the counter. “I wanna look nice when he sees me.”

He thinks for a moment while securing the books in his briefcase. “You got any slacks?”

“Haha! You’re kidding, right?” the goat laughs. “It’s a date! Not a damn business meeting!”

A golden jackal dressed like the coyote joins them at the counter. “Jeanine, you’ll have to ask someone else for dating advice. Don here is just too work-focused for that kind of thing.”

“Pshh. I guess you’re right, Dewey,” Jeanine scoffs. “He probably couldn’t even get a girl’s number if he tried.”

“I definitely could!” Don protests. “Girls like neckties, right? I know I look presentable in this tie.”

“Heck yeah, he does! Chicks totally dig the tie!” Dewey exclaims. “I bet he could get a girl’s digits before tomorrow.”

Jeanine leans forward across the counter with a smug grin on her face. “Twenty bucks says he can’t,” she says, extending her hoof to Dewey.

The coyote puts a paw on the jackal’s shoulder to stop him. “Dewey, don’t.” But it’s too late. Dewey grips her hoof and shakes it, sealing the deal.

“Why the _ hell _ is it so loud in my library!” a loud voice suddenly screeches from another room, making the trio at the counter jerk in surprise.

Jeanine pulls her hoof back. “Alright. You got your books. Now scram before I get in trouble.” She shoos away the two canines who scramble to leave the library before the source of the angry voice arrives.

As they walk out the main door, Don slugs Dewey in the arm. “Dewey, you fool,” he says in a low, serious voice. “Midnight is in a few hours, and we got a meeting to attend. You’re gonna lose that bet.”

Dewey’s eyebrows scrunch together as he processes this info. “Fuck!”

“Watch the language,” Don chides. “We got appearances to maintain now.”

“Right. Sorry.” And so, the two business partners head off to work.

* * *

Charlie is a vixen who often works odd jobs, frequently trampling the line between legal and criminal. Though she takes great care to avoid unwanted attention, some may still suspect her of trespassing or thievery among other activities.

Tonight, a food vendor’s supplier has failed to deliver, letting her strike a profitable bargain. Now, she and one of her packmates, a large black wolf named Betty, stand outside a food truck with a cooler full of seafood, just before lunchtime for the nocturnal mammal.

Pounding on the window of the food truck, Betty calls to the lion chopping vegetables inside. “Open up, Neil.”

“Betty?” The lion moves away from the window to open the door. “And Foxtrot! What do you have for me tonight?”

“Enough cod for lunch and dinner,” Charlie answers, opening the cooler to show the goods. “The rest is in the car.”

“Nice. Thanks a lot. I was just running out of fish. You really saved me here,” Neil says, brushing his mane out of his eyes to examine the container’s contents. “Where’d you get so much on short notice?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Betty says as she lights a cigarette, glaring down at the fox beside her. “I hope you won’t need another delivery ’cuz we ain't ever doing that again.”

Neil raises an eyebrow. “Okay then. I got your pay in the truck. But could you help me load this stuff into the fridge, first? Lunch rush is about to start. Oh, and grab a taco before you two leave. On the house.”

“I’m taking your taco, Charlie. You owe me after all that shit," Betty says as she hauls the seafood into the truck. “Al's gonna be pissed when he finds out what you did with his car.”

  
  


Soon, Don and Dewey arrive at Neil’s food truck. The only other mammal in line is a large wolf girl. “Seriously, if you just asked for her number,” Dewey grumbles to Don.

“That would’a been inappropriate behavior for a meeting. Besides, she wasn’t my type,” Don replies as the wolf walks off with her food. “Two fish tacos for us, Neil,” Don says to the lion in the food truck.

“That’ll be six bucks,” Neil says as he accepts Don’s cash.

“Not your type? You didn’t have to ask her out,” Dewey complains, shaking his head. “You just needed to get her number. What kind of girl would you like anyway? Would she need to wear a suit and really nice pants?”

“Foxtrot usually wears slacks and a turtleneck,” Neil cuts in as he assembles their order. “I’m not sure if that’s up to your standards, but maybe you should still talk to her.”

“I don’t see why my attire would be relevant.” The voice of the thin fox standing between the two canines startles them. Baggy slacks, oversized turtleneck sweater, just as Neil described. Plus squinty eyes and messy, ungroomed light-orange fur. Not really a professional look.

But of course, they still need that number, so Dewey nudges Don, urging him on. “Uuhhhh, hey. My name’s Don. How ya doing?” Charlie only tilts her head in response. “Neil said your name was Foxtrot?”

“Charlie,” the fox mutters. “And I’d prefer not to disclose any contact information to a stranger.”

“What? Did you hear all that?” Don coughs, clearing his throat. “Here’s the thing. Dewey bet twenty bucks that I could get a girl’s digits before the end of today. It’s almost midnight, so could you do us a favor and just let me have your phone number? Please?”

“I refuse,” Charlie firmly states. She turns around to walk away, and Don lets out a sound like a strangled gasp, caught completely off guard by the devastating rejection.

Dewey, however, is not as quick to give up. He hops in front of Charlie to stop her departure. “Oh, come on! Wait a moment! We’ll split the prize money with you!” he pleads with his paws clasped together. “We won’t even need to call you!”

“I doubt that you'd be able to collect on your wager without any verification,” Charlie says, causing Dewey to lower his head in defeat. Charlie glances back to Don who idly scratches at one of his large ears as he mopes.

This is strange for Charlie. Whenever someone had asked her for her number, it had never been over something as petty as a bet. Always been business. This time it’s different. It’s entertaining. She finds their desperation amusing and decides to throw them a bone. “Would a pager number suffice?”

This perks them up a bit. Probably confuses them more, judging by their faces. “Pager?” Don says, looking to Dewey who just shrugs. “Maybe? I mean, she never said it had to be a _ phone _ number.”

Charlie walks back to the truck, her large bushy tail dragging against Don’s chest as she moves past him, and he leans back, shaking her tail off as the bristly fur tickles his chin. “Two more fish tacos,” she tells Neil as she passes him a bill from a wallet. “They’ll be paying for me.” 

She starts tapping away at a cell phone. It looks like the same kind of phone as Don’s. It’s even the same color. Don narrows his eyes and takes a closer look. It _ is _ his phone.

“How— How do you have my…” Don checks his pockets. “My wallet! My keys!” Charlie returns his items, shoving them into his chest, and in his befuddlement, he almost drops it all. He looks at his phone as Dewey checks his pockets too. A new number is listed in his contacts.

“Send a page if you need to talk,” the vixen says, ruffling his tie as she leaves with their tacos. “I’ll respond if I am available.”

Don and Dewey just stare with wide eyes and shock on their faces. “So did she give you her number?” Neil asks as he sets down two more tacos at the window.

“Yeah I got it,” Don says absently, still watching the fox walking across the street as customers start lining up at the truck. “You didn’t tell me she was a pickpocket.”

“I told you chicks dig the tie,” Dewey remarks as customers start lining up for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set around the start of TGWeaver's Pack Street Stories.


	2. Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Don to prove they won the bet.

_ Savages_, the newspaper says. Predators just going berserk in the city of Zootopia, completely losing control of themselves. Troubling news, especially for those living on Pack Street since its residents are mostly predators.

Trying not to let it sour his mood, Don forces his eyes away from the paper, not wanting his day off to be stressful.

* * *

Entering the Pack Street Library, Don looks around. More mammals are here than last time. There’s an otter reading _ Hairy Porker_, a stoat taping poster on a wall, a few cubs writing essays or book reports. And at a table, a jackal chatting with a goat with a paper bag of fast food.

“…just put her paw right on his chest and started fiddlin' with his tie. She was all over him,” Dewey brags as Don sits down beside him. “Dress to impress. It works like a charm.”

“Ooh. Tell me more.” Jeanine mumbles with her mouth full, shoving more fries into her mouth. “What’s she like?”

“She’s a vixen,” Don says.

“A fox?”

“Yeah, and get this,” Dewey cuts in. “She was wearing slacks.”

“Well, that’s perfect,” Jeanine snickers as Don rolls his eyes. “So what’s the mystery girl’s name, lover boy?”

“Charlie.”

“Pfft,” Jeanine snorts. “You sure you got a girl?”

Shaking his head, Don pulls out his phone to send Charlie a page. “I’m serious. You can talk to her yourself. She’ll call me after I message her pager.”

The goat coughs a half-chewed fry onto the table. “A pager?” Stifling her laughter, she covers her mouth with a hoof. “How old is she? Like, sixty?”

“Nah. She’s much younger than that,” Dewey says. “I could tell.”

“Should you even be eating in here?” Don gripes, his muzzle crinkled in disgust as Jeanine wipes up her mess with some napkins.

“As long as I don’t spill on a book or something, should be fine,” she says, sipping her soda. “Marty’s always bringing his coffee and—”

Don’s phone vibrates. Unknown caller.

“Is that her?” Dewey asks. “Put it on speaker.”

“But we’re in a library.”

“Just do it,” Jeanine says. “Besides, my boss alone is louder than everyone in here combined. He can’t give us shit.”

Setting his phone on speaker, Don places it onto the table. “Hey it’s Don. You there, Charlie?” Jeanine and Dewey lean forward, staring at the phone as if expecting it to burst into confetti.

“I reckon this call is to confirm that the conditions of your wager have been satisfied,” a voice murmurs from the phone.

“Yeah,” Dewey says. “You’re on speaker. I’m Don’s friend. Dewey, the jackal at the food truck. And Jeanine’s here too. She’s—”

“The short-horned goat employed at the local library,” Charlie interrupts. “I’m well aware of her identity.”

“What?” Jeanine picks up the phone, yelling into it. “How do you know me?”

“Marty complains about you often.”

“You know my boss?”

“Just tell her how I got your number so we can get this over with,” Don grumbles, plucking his phone from the goat’s hooves.

“Of course. The hour before midnight, I overheard Dewey crying about Don’s incompetence at conversing with women. Eventually I caught their attention, and they dropped to their knees, begging for my contact number. ”

“What? No. **No**,” Dewey sputters as Jeanine’s laughter returns louder than before.

“She gave you her number out of _ pity_?” the goat wheezes, her hoof slapping the table with a dull _ clunk_. “This is just getting better and better.”

“It was a rather unsightly display.”

“That didn’t happen! She’s just exaggerating,” Don growls, his face turning red with frustration. “Look, the point is I got her number. We won the bet.”

“Say, Don,” the phone says. “I’ve discovered something interesting regarding your employment history.”

“Why the hell are you digging through my history?” Don hisses, grabbing his phone and toggling off the speaker. “That shit is **private**. This better not be fuckin’ **blackmail**.” He walks away with the phone, leaving his friends behind at the table.

“I have no plans for extortion,” Charlie replies while Don settles in a quiet corner in the library. “However, I do propose a meeting tomorrow afternoon. Four o’ clock. Oh, and bring your suit. Despite your mediocre approach in our previous encounter, your appearance did have a certain appeal.”

“Fuck off.”

“I suggest you consider it first. I’ll contact you with more details later.” The phone emits a small click as the call ends.

  
  


“I mean, I don’t think we’ll be going on a second date,” Jeanine whispers, idly rubbing one of her horns. “But it was fun while it lasted.”

Dewey and Jeanine turn their heads towards the coyote returning to their table with a scowl. “Hey, we won!” Dewey says excitedly, showing off a twenty dollar bill. “So what did she say?”

“She wants to meet tomorrow,” Don huffs. “And she said to bring my suit because she liked it or something.”

“Dude, you got a date?” Jeanine blurts, eyebrows raised.

“She mocks me over the phone and you think we got a date? Quit imagining things.”

“Nah, she was just teasing you,” Dewey says. “That’s just how the ladies flirt sometimes. Did she specifically say it wasn’t a date?”

“Did you get her caller ID? Why don’t you call her back and ask her?” Jeanine suggests.

Don slides his phone onto the table. “_You _ go ask her. I don’t got any patience left.” He rests his elbows on the table, his face in his paws as the jackal and the goat mess with his phone.

“You’ve reached Pandora’s Box,” an alluring, feminine voice answers their call. That’s not Charlie. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Jeanine prods Don’s shoulder with a grin on her face. “She called you from a _ sex shop_?” Don frowns back, his arms folded.

“Where’s Charlie?” Dewey asks.

“Charlie? You just missed her. She left just a minute ago.”

“Why was Charlie in there? Does she work there?”

“No, she’s not a regular employee here. Anyway, are you gonna order anything? We got a clearance sale going on right now, and I could hook you up with a _ big _ discount on a lot of our merch.”

“Get him some CONDOMS,” Jeanine speaks directly into the phone.

“Shut up,” Don grumbles. “I don’t need any.”

“Okay, look," the phone drones on. "As much as I’d love to keep talking with you, this line isn’t really supposed to be for personal chit-chat.”

“Yeah, sorry. My friend’s just unsure about the details with this meeting with Charlie, and we just thought we should call to clear things up.”

“Well, if you’re not ordering anything…” The voice on the phone changes to a smokier tone. “Maybe there’s something else I could help you with. What’s your name, honey?”

“Dewey.”

“So, what are you wearing, Dewey?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Don snaps, grabbing the phone and ending the call.

“Oh man. This is fucking rich. Worth my twenty bucks,” Jeanine giggles, cleaning up her finished lunch meal. She gets up to throw away her trash. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Jeanine returns with a bunch of books. “All this for you, Don.” The books drop onto the table with a thud.

Sitting up in his chair, Don picks up a book. _ A Gentleman’s Guide to Dating_. Disbelief on his face, he looks up at the goat who smirks back while Dewey examines the other books. _ The Rules of Courtship_. _ What Vixens Want_. _ The Fangs of Love. _

“What the hell is all this for?” Don nearly shouts.

“You were lucky to even get her number,” Jeanine teases. “You need _ all _ the help you can get, _ lover boy _.”

“She kinda has a point, Don,” Dewey says, peeking through the pages of a romance novel.

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Don gets up and heads for the library’s exit. “I’m going back to work.”

“Work? But it’s our day off.”

“Wait! You forgot your books!” Jeanine yells as Don walks out the door.

“You know what, I’ll take these for him,” Dewey says, happily collecting the books in a stack. “Go ahead and ring ‘em up. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”


	3. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coyote, fox, drinks.

“Is this supposed to be your way of saying you’re sorry?” a large arctic wolf grumbles, inspecting the glass bottle in his paws. “You coulda just gotten us normal drinks from a normal store. Not _t__his _ shit.”

“This was a less costly option,” Charlie says.

The wolf glares down at the small fox. “I’m still not letting you use my car again.”

* * *

The alpha only accepted a six-pack. Charlie didn’t really expect it to go better than that, but it was still worth a shot. Walking down her apartment building’s stairs, she decides that dealing with the rest of the drinks can wait.

When she reaches the lobby, Charlie spots two of her pack mates, watching the news in the middle of the night. Avo, the slender wolf with chestnut-colored fur, stands behind the couch while Marty, the stoat, sits on the armrest. Making her way to the couch, Charlie listens as the stoat voices his frustrations, a bag of kettle corn in his paws as he gestures wildly at the TV.

“…gonna use this as an excuse to fuck with us preds instead of trying to figure out what’s causing them to go savage. And all the prey’s going along with it just ‘cuz they’re all too busy shitting themselves to realize they’re just making everything worse.”

News about savage preds again. No wonder he’s upset. Hopping onto the couch, Charlie grabs the remote. She presses a button, and the TV screen switches to a basketball game. “Dammit, Charlie. I was watching that,” Marty grumbles while Charlie kicks her feet up and plops her head onto the armrest, almost knocking him off it.

“Well, it was bumming me out anyway. I’d rather watch anything else,” Avo says, a lollipop clacking audibly between her teeth. “So, Charlie. Some guys called at work earlier. They were asking for you.”

Who would’ve called for Charlie at Pandora’s Box? Don and his friends, probably. Yes, they must have tried calling her back. “Did they leave a message?” Charlie asks, reaching a paw into Marty’s bag of kettle corn.

“No, but one of them said his name was Dewey. You got something going on with these guys?”

“I had business planned with one of them,” Charlie mumbles through her mouthful of popped corn. She did have plans with Don, that coyote in the suit, until he started swearing at her. “Perhaps I should cancel. I’ve been having second thoughts since our last conversation. He seems to have developed a negative perception of me.”

Marty scoffs. “Why? Did you nab his wallet?”

“…Yes.”

“Well done, Charlie,” Avo sarcastically speaks, her mouth stretching into a smug grin. “You’re really not helping with the stigma against foxes. You oughta learn how to deal with people without pissing them off eventually.”

“Yeah, how about I give you a lesson?” Marty says. “Teach you how to talk to someone the _ proper _ way.”

Now that’s a silly thought. Avo obviously thinks so, judging by the eye roll. Charlie turns her head to the stoat almost bopping him in the face with her nose. He’s completely serious. He didn’t mean it as a joke, despite how laughable it is. “I don’t need a lesson on proper etiquette, Marty. I’m capable enough as I am.”

“Nope. You’re **not**.” Marty stands up on the armrest, pointing a finger down at Charlie’s face. “You said he already doesn’t fuckin’ like you. You _ need _ my help. You left a really crappy first impression when we met too.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Avo sneers. “The only impression you ever leave is ‘angry little dickhead’.”

“Shut the fuck up, Avo. I know what I’m talking about,” Marty retorts at the wolf before turning his attention back to Charlie. “Sure, some people don’t really like me, but that’s fine. You don’t need to become best friends when you’re talking business. You just gotta have mutual respect. That’s really important. I wouldn’t have let you be my roommate if we didn’t have respect. Yeah, we’ll call this lesson one: fuckin’ mutual respect.”

At this point, nobody’s paying attention to the basketball game anymore, so Charlie mutes the TV. “Carry on,” she tells Marty. He might actually be saying something useful. Even Avo has her eyes focused on the stoat, curious about what he may say next. Or maybe she’s expecting him to make a fool of himself. Either way, this could be worth listening to.

“You know society in general doesn’t accept criminal behavior, right?” Marty continues. “Basically, when you took that guy’s wallet, you cost yourself all his respect. You’re not gonna be able to work with him unless you earn that respect back.”

Makes sense. Charlie could have come to the same conclusion if she put her mind to it. She just had other priorities. But it seems Marty doesn’t. Well, it couldn’t hurt to humor him for now. “How do you suggest I regain his respect?”

“You gotta show him that you’re still worth working with,” Marty says, shaking around his depleted snack bag. “You gotta show him that it’s worth his time and effort. You can’t just keep taking without giving something back. Like with all my food in the fridge. That was supposed to last me a whole week and you finished it all in two days. _ Two fucking days! _ What am _ I _ getting in return? Why don’t you try grocery shopping once in a while so I can get a break?”

“A lesson about proper manners and you had to make it about your groceries. Real helpful,” Avo snarks. Marty didn’t like that. He faces Avo with a scowl, and Charlie can tell that he’s about to throw a tantrum. Unless she distracts him, anyway.

Charlie presses the TV remote, bringing the volume of the sports channel back just as the stoat opens his mouth to start yelling. “If you feel that strongly about it, you may have the grape beverages I have stored in our refrigerator,” she tells him.

Immediately, his expression shifts to pleasantly surprised. “Nice. See that? She’s already learning. I told you I _ know _ this shit.” Crisis averted.

Now that everyone’s eyes are back on the basketball game, Charlie reviews what Marty just said. He did trail off from the main topic, but his ideas weren’t bad. So far, she received two tacos from Don. What could she give him in return?

The TV screen cuts to a Snarlbucks commercial. Coffee. Marty was much happier after he was offered a drink. Yes, that could work. Business men are always drinking coffee.

* * *

Don puts on his suit, straightening his tie. He stares at the coyote in the mirror, at his own tired eyes which always lack any energy. No problem. His business partner has enough enthusiasm to make up for it. He exits his home, locking the door as he leaves.

Three pm. The only new messages on Don’s phone are from some of his pack mates. Something about a party tonight. No messages from the fox yet. And so he remains unsure of what to expect of their upcoming meeting.

He had been thinking of what to say to her, how to tell her off in the meanest, cruelest, most asshole-ish way possible so that she wouldn’t bother him again. But after a bit of sleep, most of his frustration with the fox has died down.

She had just caught him off-guard. Just surprised him with her unusual behavior, her teasing, and her mention of his past. That’s all it was, a bit of a shock. He’ll be more prepared for their next conversation.

Cool, calm, and collected, that’s how he is now. A decent mammal in a respectable business. A severe tongue-lashing shouldn’t be necessary for a polite business man. Be it a business offer, an invitation to a block party, or a date, a simple “no” should be enough. A simple answer for when Charlie calls him back— if she calls him back.

That’s what he’s thinking as he walks into the local Snarlbucks when he notices the orange-furred vixen picking up her order at the counter. She tilts her head upward, sniffing the air. Then her narrow eyes look right at the coyote standing frozen at the doorway, his hand still latched onto the door handle.

“An unplanned but convenient coincidence,” Charlie murmurs, placing her cup holder onto a table. “Since we are both currently present, we may as well get started.”

She gestures for Don to take the seat across her as she sits down. Taking a deep breath, Don releases the door to join Charlie at the table. Cool, calm, and collected. Time to get this over with.

Don examines the cup holder which contains two covered paper cups and a glass bottle labeled “APPLE JUICE!” in large block letters like a juice box for kids. This store doesn’t even sell apple juice, as far as Don knows. “I bought coffee,” Charlie states, nudging the cup holder forward.

“Is this supposed to be a bribe?” Don asks suspiciously.

“Do you need one?”

Don scoffs. That’s just the kind of answer he could expect from a shifty fox. He grabs one of the coffee cups. Now he has accepted a drink from a stranger. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that because there’s all those stories of people spiking drinks, but it smells just like a normal coffee with sugar and cream. And Charlie probably wouldn’t try anything in broad daylight. Also, there’s witnesses around. “Go ahead and make your pitch so I can say no,” he says, jabbing a straw through the cup’s cover, taking a sip.

“You shouldn’t be so hasty to discard an opportunity for monetary gain,” Charlie picks the glass bottle out of the cup holder, sliding it across the table and into Don’s paws. Okay, he was wrong. She _ would _ do something in broad daylight. With the bottle sitting just below his nose, the familiar smell of alcohol is obvious. The apple juice label is completely bogus.

“Let me guess. You want me to play bootlegger.”

“It’s nothing you lack experience in.”

“You really did your homework,” Don sighs. He was hoping she had been joking when she brought up his history. Nope, she knows what she’s doing. She has been careful picking her words, saying nothing incriminating and still being able to suggest something illegal around a dozen other mammals without anyone noticing. Well, two can play that game. She knows how to offer a deal? Fine. Don knows how to decline one. “Look, I’m not gonna do it.”

“Don’t be a fool, Don. The profits—”

“Ask someone else to get your profit,” Don interrupts, keeping his volume low enough so that they won’t be overheard. “I know my job history isn’t all sparkling clean, but things have changed. I’m a legit mammal in a legit business now, and I got better things to do than peddling contraband. It’s not worth the risk. I shouldn't even be seen making some kinda shady deal with you.”

“There’s little risk involved. Nobody’s watching.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. There’s always someone watching. Especially when you’re dealing with a substance this heavily regulated. I’d rather not find out how long we could get stuck in prison just for improper labeling.” Don slides the booze back to Charlie. “Go find someone else.”

For a while, Charlie just frowns at Don, neither of them breaking eye contact as he continues sipping his coffee. Eventually, Charlie speaks. “Please ensure that Dewey receives his coffee. It would be a shame for it to go to waste.” Leaving all the drinks behind, Charlie stands up, her bushy tail dragging along the floor as she walks away from the table. “When we first met, I hadn’t figured you for a mammal that could afford to lose twenty dollars. But I suppose I made a mistake, seeing that you’re willingly throwing away a few hundred.” The door chimes as she exits the coffee shop.

A few hundred dollars!? How could that be worth a few hundred? Don racks his brain, thinking, thinking… Depending on the quality of alcohol, a bottle could be worth a fair amount. A good wine or whiskey could be worth twenty to thirty dollars for a bottle this size. If she got a dozen bottles… “Hey. Wait! Charlie!”

Don rushes to the door, looking around outside. The fox is nowhere to be found. Pulling at his ears in frustration, he mentally kicks himself for blowing a potentially large profit just because he wanted to spite the shifty fox. She’s probably long gone now.

Or not.

“Changed your mind so soon?”

Don turns around. “Always one step ahead, aren’t you?” he grumbles when he sees the sly grin stretching across Charlie’s face. 


	4. Duke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke

A 70-30 split on the profits isn’t exactly fair for her, so it surprised Don that Charlie didn’t bother renegotiating when he named his terms. She didn’t even ask for a little bit of collateral for the product she’s transferring to his possession. Is this fox really that generous? Does she really just trust him to deliver her share whenever he manages to sell the goods? It’s not as if he’s planning to cheat her of the profits anyway. A good businessman’s gotta hold up his end of the deal.

Still, Don feels somewhat guilty, as if he’s taking advantage of her. He probably shouldn’t feel too bad about it. Besides, she’s the one that approached him with this deal. And he and Dewey could really use the money. Actually, she’s lucky they need the money. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have put up with her little hustle.

But that’s something Don will have to think about another time. He hears a knock on his door, and he opens it, letting his friend in.

“Nice.” Dewey whistles appreciatively as he looks around Don’s home, about a dozen cases of glass bottles stacked neatly along its walls. “You think Charlie would mind if we had a taste?”

“Not my choice. Ask her,” Don mutters as he hands Dewey a cup of coffee.

“If she were here, I would. Anyway, I heard there was a block party going down tonight. You think they’ll take some of these?” Dewey asks before sipping his drink.

“Charlie already talked with the hosts. They didn’t like the ‘improper labeling’ either.”

“Too bad. At least we know a guy who wouldn’t care about that. Let’s give him a call.”

A voice answers their call. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. How ya doing?” Don replies.

“Heh. You ask that as if you care,” the voice hisses harshly from the phone. “Can’t even hang out with me after you got your cushy new jobs and nice suits.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. That’s not how it is.”

“Come on, Don. It’s like you can’t be seen around me anymore, just cuz I got arrested once. Why’re ya bothering me now? Don’t ya have better things to do like counting all the cash you’re making or how many friends you’ve left behind?”

“You shoulda left those onions alone you dumbf— Ahem. Listen Duke. I’m not avoiding you. You’re just imagining it.” Maybe he should’ve avoided calling this little prick. Don looks over to Dewey who gestures for him to pass the phone. Sure, why not let him handle the talking? It was his idea after all.

Dewey clears his throat before speaking. “Hey Duke, it’s Dewey here.”

“If it isn’t Don’s better half! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Already the voice on the phone sounds more easy-going.

“Sorry we couldn’t call earlier. Real busy with work, you get me? How ‘bout we catch up over a bottle of booze? Or maybe a few dozen?”

“And here I thought you guys weren’t doing that anymore! You still there, Don? Not below you after all, huh?” Duke sneers as Don rolls his eyes. “Well, you called the right mammal for it.”

“Great. Oh, hold on. The cops aren’t still watching you, are they?” Dewey asks.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the cops,” Duke scoffs. “You hear they hired a bunny? Their quality control’s really slacking a lot lately.”

“Didn’t that bunny arrest you?”

“I said don’t worry about it. She’s not a problem at all.”


End file.
